Not Just the Eggnog
by Randi Matheson
Summary: In response the the Veresna Veneries 'Severus Festivus' Challenge: A (very) short sweetness in which our lovelies have an understanding. My first attempt at fic in a loooong time. SSHG


A/N: My first try. Be kind, but not too kind. I like it rough when it come to constructive criticism. In all seriousness: I couldn't resist spitting this thingy out. No beta, barely any rereading. My first attempt at fanfic in ooh about 7 years.  
  
Disclaimer: If I were J.K.Rowling, which I'm not, I would have my characters spend less time fighting the forces of evil, and more time cavorting in my bed. Good thing I don't own them, eh?  
  
Not Just the Eggnog  
  
"Come now Severus, you must try to resist your normally surly impulses and partake in the festivities." Albus gently admonished him. "At least for tonight."  
  
"Why on earth should I," Snape hissed back at the headmaster from the security of a comfortably padded armchair.  
  
"Because it's Christmas, my dear boy! And not only that, a very special Christmas!" Dumbledore cried out merrily. Too merrily. Was he drunk?  
  
Snape peered at him suspiciously. Oh yes, haha, good times, let's all be jolly. The Dark Lord has finally fallen, leaving the Potions Master without a purpose, but yes, let's all dance the night away.  
  
"Bah humbug. Don't feel like it." Snape responded petulantly, gripping his mug more firmly.  
  
Dumbledore shook his head sadly, but not too sadly given his enebriated state. "Well, Minerva can't say I didn't try," he chuckled, and wandered away, almost immediately distracted by a plate of chocolate biscuits floating by all on its lonesome.  
  
Snape returned to his contemplation of his drink. Funny stuff, this eggnog. Very warming. And tingly. Must be a muggle thing. What on earth was a nog, anyway?  
  
"Professor?"  
  
Oh dear Merlin now what?  
  
"Miss Granger." Decisive. No inquiry, no holiday cheer expressed with that. That'll show her.  
  
"Happy Christmas!"  
  
Snape allowed himself to look up at the person addressing him. A person most obviously holding a gift.  
  
She was still staring at him.  
  
"It's for you, Professor. We thought it might be nice to er..." the girl trailed off. We? Ugh, the 'Triumphant Trio.'  
  
'How kind of you, Miss Granger, but I'm not so masochistic as to wish you to shower me with pity presents."  
  
What was this? Was she actually turning red?  
  
"It's not out of pity," the lady said hotly. "It's for you. To make you happy."  
  
Snape regarded her for a moment, a long moment, before sitting up and taking the box gently from her hands. "If happiness could be found in a box, I could have been a most ecstatic street bum," he mumbled as he pulled apart the ribbons.  
  
When the wrappings parted and the box was opened, he sat back in his chair in amazement. A small mewling emerged from the container, and he was utterly speechless.  
  
"You understand now why I was so anxious for you to open it," he vaguely heard the Gryffindor brain say softly. "I thought he might give it away before you saw him."  
  
It was a kitten. No, not just a kitten, he corrected himself as he noted the particularly perky ears and feral expression on its tiny muzzle. A kneazle kitten. A ridiculous shade of orange that would probably be called tabby if it was a normal cat. Shuddering, Snape couldn't help but be reminded of the Weasley progeny.  
  
"We left the name up to you."  
  
Snape dragged himself out of his thoughts and stared up at the girl in front of him. Not quite a girl any longer, he noticed in a daze. Her dress robes had filled out noticeably, and not in a bad way, and a certain softness had taken over her pointy child's face.  
  
Too much eggnog, obviously.  
  
"I wanted to be the one to come bring him to you. I figured you were less likely to throw it at me than you would at Harry, or Ron." Her eyes widened slightly. She must have been letting her mouth do the thinking for her again, Snape thought idly to himself, as he opened his own to deliver a suitably cutting remark.  
  
"This was very sweet of you, Miss Granger."  
  
No! No! That wasn't what he meant to say at all! What on earth?  
  
He felt his own eyes widening in horror at the sudden realization. He glanced down at his mug, and quickly scanned the hall until he located the headmaster. When Albus rewarded him with a wink and a benevolent smile, he knew the worst. Veritaserum. Only the cloying taste of this alcoholic drink could have masked its taste to his most talented tongue.  
  
"That is to say.... I thank you." Snape said hastily, stumbling around his words, but finding himself to say anything that would make this girl run screaming from his presence. Then it was true? He was grateful for the gift of this yowling feline?  
  
Daring to look up again, he was dismayed to see a look of equal shock on his student's face. Apparently she had realized his predicament. Although... she too was holding a glass of eggnog in her hand.  
  
Snape carefully lifted the kitten out of its merrily decorated prison, and cradled it against his chest, where it set about purring heartily.  
  
"Well, Miss Granger. It appears you have me at a disadvantage," he said dryly. "You're witness to Scrooge defeated."  
  
It was most disconcerting to hear her laugh at that, and even moreso to watch her draw up a chair and seat herself by him with such familiarity.  
  
Must be the eggnog, Snape thought to himself.  
  
"Well, if I'm not the first, then I must say I'm still the luckiest," she said lightly.  
  
Snape harrumphed noncommittally, applying himself more vigourously to his drink. After a moment in which he was uncomfortably aware of her continued presence, he said, "Not toasting with Potter and company tonight, then?" He studiously stroked his new charge, and held his cup so the little creature could lap at the creamy liquid. A little alcohol couldn't hurt this sturdy species, surely.  
  
"Not likely. I saw enough of the war without having to hear it described vividly to fans, thanks." Snape glanced up in time to see a look akin to bitterness cross Granger's pretty features. Pretty? Stop that, Severus! All the same, he admired her for not clutching at Potter's robes like the rest of his groupies.  
  
"Yes, you've always been different," Snape said blandly, then cursed at himself for forgetting how vulnerable he was to his honest opinions at the moment. He had Veritaserum eroding his dissembling capacities, and eggnog banishing his inhibitions.  
  
But she was looking at him, staring in fact, seemingly waiting for more. And it was so rare the know-it-all kept her mouth shut for any length of time, he couldn't help but fill the silence.  
  
"You never struck me as a follower, actually - from the moment you first raised your hand in my classroom, to last week when you left the battle to lay those charm traps for Lucius' reserve forces." He paused and, succumbing to the pull of the truth potion, asked what he had been dying to since then. "You saved everyone. How did you know there would be more? Even I didn't."  
  
Hermione gazed back at him steadily. "Because 'Lucius' was a coward. When the battle broke out, I knew he wouldn't throw all his forces at us to protect You-Know-Who. If he thought he was losing, if he thought he was in danger, I knew he would have some people waiting to protect his ass while he made his getaway. No one listened to me, though. So I did what I had to do."  
  
Snape nodded thoughtfully. "I think you'll find, Miss Granger, that you will always have a hard time making people listen to you," he said bitterly.  
  
He was startled when she jumped up at his words. "Because I'm an ignorant mudblood, you mean?" she spat out in a jeering tone. "Or simply because I'm a girl?"  
  
He was speechless. What was she talking about?  
  
"Well you, and the rest of you important men, needn't worry," the Fury continued rapidly. "Now that the war is over, I won't be bothering any of you with my silly theories. I intend to finish my education and do something useful with my life, while you all chase after submissive little things without a thought in their beautiful heads." She turned and stalked out through a side door.  
  
Snape leapt up, kitten forgotten, and strode after her. Outside, under the stars, he grabbed at her arm, and pulled her around to face him.  
  
"No!" he said hoarsely. She stared at his hand wrapped around her wrist in pointed indignation, but angrily silent. "No! Listen to me!"  
  
He grabbed her shoulders and jerked her to look up at him. "People will never listen to you as much as they should," he said fiercely, willing her to not look away from his eyes, "Because they are the cowards. Because you are the brilliant one, and they don't like knowing that."  
  
Snape tried to keep the words from spilling out, the words he had always wanted to bestow on her since he had first recognized her spirit, the things that made her unique and above all other women in his eyes. But luckily, or unluckily, the potion kept his lips moving.  
  
"You will always be more than them, and they're too petty to realize how special you are. How beautiful you are." He let one hand leave her shoulder involuntarily to tangle itself in her crazy curls. "Never let them think they can take that from you."  
  
He was amazed by his own heartfelt words, but utterly floored when he felt her hand snake up his back and pull his head down to her small mouth. Arms enveloped him, and the smell of cinnamon danced along his cheek as he gave himself up to the frenzied heat of her silken lips.  
  
He could have floated in her absolving embrace forever, but as all good things, it ended: as he heard a detestably cheery voice cry out "Well! Happy Christmas Severus! Glad to see you getting into the spirit, after all!"  
  
Snape pulled back abruptly, too dazed to reply, but looked around enough to see the beaming face of the Headmaster and the spring of mistletoe vigourously bobbing above his head. "Oh... er... yes Albus, of course."  
  
He vaguely registered the older man retreating to the boisterous party, but he came alive when he felt the hand of the Gryffindor girl entwining in his own. He looked down at its delicate beauty in awe before looking its owner square in the eye and murmuring, "Happy Christmas Hermione."  
  
He was gratified to see a warm smile aimed at him, and a soft voice replying, "Happy Christmas... Severus."  
  
Just then, Snape felt a stirring around his ankles, and looked down to see his little orange present butting its head against his pants cuff.  
  
"I think I'll name him Vero." He allowed himself to smile sincerely for the first time in a long time, as he squeezed her hand gently. 


End file.
